Nervous by Nature
by a-yuri-who-loves-yaoi
Summary: When his father finds him in a compromising situation, Sasha is forced to spend his senior year at Bullworth.


**Note: **Hello all and welcome to my second fanfic ever. I don't normally care much for OC protagonists, but there are a few fics with them that I really adore. I've decided to try one of my own.

Arriving Early

The late August air made Sasha's shirt cling to his chest and back. He futilely tugged at it, not giving up when it would immediately stick back down. His hands needed to preoccupied with something other than themselves. He hand wrung them together so consistently throughout the last few days that they had taken on a scaly appearance. Even the cab driver who dropped him off had noticed. She hadn't said anything, but Sasha saw her grimace as she took his cash. _"I shouldn't have given her that thirty dollar tip," _he thought. _"She didn't even offer to help take my bags out of the trunk."_

The great iron gates of Bullworth stared the teen down. Nobody had been there to greet him and the cabbie drove off as soon as he closed the trunk. Sasha wondered how long he had been standing there. He prayed that there wasn't a camera showing him stupidly waiting to a room full of laughing people. It was a ridiculous fear, but that didn't stop him from looking the gate and nearby walls up and down several times. He did not spot a camera. Nor were there any buttons or callboxes. Visibly shaking, he set his backpack on the ground next to his duffle and suitcase, and approached the closed gate. With a careful push, it shifted forward. Sasha opened it enough for him to lug his baggage through, making sure to close it again afterward.

Now that he wasn't loitering on the sidewalk, he was again clueless as what to do. He didn't see anyone. Edging forward, Sasha stopped when he reached a circle design in the cement. Two near identical buildings stood on either side of him. The one on his left had a sign reading "Boys Dorms" above an arch, while the one on the right was for girls. In front of him loomed the tallest school building he had ever seen. It looked like the cathedral back home, complete with gargoyles. He gnawed on his lower lip while deciding where to go. He could set his stuff down in the dorms, but had no idea what room was his. There was also a higher chance of running into unescorted boys that might know what he was and beat him unconscious on sight. With that thought, he went towards the school.

It was a struggle to get up the steps with all his bags in tow. Admittedly, he was not the strongest guy his age. Puberty had not filled out his chest, but rather stretched him upwards, leaving him with the body of a sunflower. He was panting heavily when he reached the door, silently cursing the heat and his asshole of a father.

Again, he saw no one when he pushed through the grayish blue door. The spacious layout was impressive. A third of his old school might have fit into the entrance hall. Forcing away thoughts of theft and stolen identity, he left behind his suitcase and duffle bag while he headed towards the stairs. The trophy case he spotted on the second floor might have been an indicator of an office. At least, that's what he hoped.

He was right about it being an office, but there wasn't anyone sitting at the desk behind the counter. Afraid of being caught somewhere he shouldn't have been, he backed out towards the railing in the hall. Sasha looked at his luggage, afraid that it would not still be where he left it. With more mental swears and self-berating, he forced himself back into the waiting room. He thought he heard giggling from behind a door in the back. Whether that was a good sign or not was to be determined. There was not a whole lot for him to find interest in. A few chairs sat against a wall, but, after the plane and cab rides, he much rather stay standing. A gilt-edged sign in book lay open on top of the oak counter. Sasha approached it, only seeing one name on the page. Someone named Jimmy Hopkins poorly scrawled their signature next to yesterday's date. The boy had also doodled what looked to be a crown. Sasha picked up a pen from beside the book. Hesitating, he debated whether or not to use print for his name. He had an embarrassingly feminine signature. Combining that with his unisex name, it would be no surprise if a person read it and pictured a girl. Sasha went with print, hoping it would not be too informal.

Awkward minutes crept by with Sasha having nothing to do but check back on his bags and rub his sore hands together. Sasha heard steps up the hall and peeked his head out. A man with his red nose buried in a tattered book walked towards him. He opened his mouth to say something, but panicked at what to say. He didn't think the man would take notice of him, too busy muttering along as he read, but he came right into the room beside him. Sasha tried not to notice the stale smell of rum on him. The man stood silent at first, then, after a particularly loud giggled, belted out, "For heaven's sake somebody's waiting out here!" He then trudged away without another word.

A woman with short brown hair rushed out of the office in back and quickly shut the door behind her. Her button up shirt, tucked into a heavily starched black skirt, was in disarray. She cleared her throat before stiffly greeting, "How may I help you?"

Sasha managed to stumble out, "Oh, hi, I'm, uh new here." Great, only one sentence in and he already sounded like a moron. "I just didn't know where I should go."

"Of course," she smiled in a very unbelievable way. "Let me call the head boy; he will show you where to go." She walked to the desk behind the counter and picked up a heavy looking phone. After pressing several buttons, she spoke, "Peter Kowalski, please come to the dean's office to assume your neglected duties." Her stern voice rang out over the intercom. She set down the phone and turned her gaze back onto Sasha. "He will be here shortly. You're here awfully early, boy. Classes don't resume for another two weeks."

"Yeah, my, uh dad wanted me to get to know the campus and all."

"I see. What's your name?"

"Sasha F—"

"Fort, yes. I remember speaking to your father. He was quite concerned about your… wavering morals. Please do try to behave yourself appropriately." With that, the woman left him standing in the waiting room, blood rushing to his face. He hated his father.

It did not take long for the main doors to burst open. A smaller boy rushed through. Sasha could feel his eyes lock onto him before he ran up the flight of stairs.

"Hey there, sorry for the wait!" He stuck his hand out at him. "I'm Pete, the head boy here."

Sasha, encouraged by the pink shirt under the guy's open vest, tried his best to smile genuinely. He shook his hand after reminding himself not to do so too softly. It wasn't until he took his hand back that he remembered how awful they looked. Pete seemed not to notice.

After darting behind the counter and retrieving a clipboard with some papers, the head boy asked his name. "Alright," he started after Sasha replied. "Looks like you're in the boys' dorm room four. That's pretty close to me!"

"Oh, cool."

"C'mon, I'll show you where to go."

* * *

Sasha was not immediately impressed with the dorm building. It was dark and needed a thorough cleaning. A rundown common room faced the entrance. He looked down at the tacky rug, worrying about how crowded the place might become.

Pete had helped him carry his things and was now walking to the second door on the left. "This will be your room. Well, yours and Cornelius' room."

"Who's Cornelius?"

"Oh, Mrs. Crabblesnitch didn't tell you? Usually she loves to talk about the kids here." Pete chuckled awkwardly. "She even wrote a note about him on here. Let's see… something about trying to make up for his complete lack of athleticism with academics. Yikes, that's not very nice." Sasha's concerned face at his words was met with more nervous laughter. "You can't really take her seriously."

His room looked as if it had been haphazardly modified for two people. Two twin beds with lackluster blankets were thrown against each wall. One side had a wardrobe, while the other a desk. A streaky window was in the middle of the back wall. The venetian blinds over it had bent and broken slats. "Home sweet home," Pete announced as he set down the duffel bag on the wardrobe side bed. "It won't be so bad; Cornelius is a pretty nice guy. And he usually decorates his room up nice."

Sasha held in a jittery sigh.

"Well, I'll let you get settled in. Have you registered for classes yet?"

"No… was I supposed to?"

"Probably not. I've got the papers right here." He handed him a glossy booklet and a slip of paper. "Look over this and then fill out the paper. You have to have five classes per semester. When you're done, you can just bring it to me. I'm one door to the left." The short boy left the room, but popped back in momentarily. "Any class that's crossed out is filled. Okay, have fun!"

While unpacking his clothes, Sasha quickly realized that the armoire would not be enough storage space for two people. He hung up his three matching school uniforms on the hangers provided inside, then sighed as he pushed his suitcase under the bed. _"Looks like I'll be living out of my bags for the year." _

He tried working on his class registration, but was too anxious to process any of the words on the pages. He missed Tommy, and couldn't stop wondering if he was back home thinking of him. Before leaving, his dad had replaced his cellphone with one of those kids' ones. The kind that didn't have a number pad, but buttons for several programmable contacts instead. It was supposed to be a deterrent.

Sasha's loneliness pushed him to leave his own room and knock on Pete's door. "Hey," he greeted with a smile. "Finished your schedule already?"

"No."

His grin flickered. "Did you need help with it?"

"Uh, not really. I was just wondering if there was a computer I could use somewhere."

"Yeah, there are some in the lab. I'll show you, but make sure you get your classes done soon."

"Sure, thanks."

Sure enough, there was a computer lab on the lower level of the school. Inside there were eight rows with four horribly outdated computers each. Pete turned on the one closest to the door. After an eternity of angry buzzing and rumbling, the screen lit up. It wanted login information. "You can use my info," the head boy said while leaning over to type it in. "Just don't look up anything gross. I can get in trouble for that."

"I just have to, um, send an email."

"Okay, well, I'll leave you to it."

Sasha waited until Peter left the room to whip the chair out and place himself in front of the screen. He found the internet button and, after a wait, typed in the url he had memorized. A very simple blog with light blue background loaded slowly. The only post was just of a picture that had made he and Tommy laugh. It was a pissed off looking ferret wearing a cowboy hat. He clicked on the comments section. Sasha nearly cheered when he saw the newest one had been posted earlier in the day.

_TLemar4296: _get there yet? miss u.

Although the message was painfully short and horridly written, it still made Sasha's stomach untwist a bit. Their secret line of communication was going to work. _"Take that Dad!"_

Sasha wrote and deleted five responses before settling on: I got here safely, and I miss you too.

He figured that it would be best to match his close friend's short sentiment. He didn't want to mess anything up by writing too much and sounding desperate. Sasha closed out of the webpage and signed Peter Kowalski off before shutting the machine down.

* * *

When Sasha was a child, he thought the biggest adversity he'd ever be forced to overcome was being a ginger. Other kids made fun of his carrot hair and the storm of freckles across his face. They said he had no soul and that he was a devil spawn. He hadn't understood and went home crying to his mother. She assured him that it was all a joke and that the father he had yet to encounter at the time was not Satan. Still, he did not get along with the other children and did not have a real friend until Tommy Lemar.

If only he had known that the boy that moved down the street from him would be the cause of his sentence at Bullworth. He'd like to be able to say that he would have changed nothing, but Sasha knew he wasn't that brave. He hated how scared he felt sitting on the stiff bed, knees pulled up to his chin. He rubbed his right thumb back and forth over the back of his left hand. The brochure on classes was open next to him. Most of them had a permanent marker X through them. As much as he loathed his dad, he wanted to be safe at home more than anything else.


End file.
